


Stranded

by PashN



Category: Transistor (Video Game)
Genre: Adventure, Eventual Romance, F/M, Slow Build, You've been warned, endgame spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2016-11-19
Packaged: 2018-04-06 20:03:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4234806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PashN/pseuds/PashN
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the possible outcomes she imagined for their battle, this is not one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Confusion

"For someone in your position... well, you truly lack foresight."

She moves her gaze to the owner of that strangely detached voice, walking in front of her straight-backed, unperturbed, as if his hands are not even bound.

"Complementing it with tunnel vision so narrow – so absolutely narrow – that makes me wonder if, by any chance, your surviving the Process was... if it was a miracle."

She wishes she had her voice back so she, too, could give him a piece of her mind.

Having no such luxury, Red resumes her wary appraisal of their unfamiliar surrounding. Last time she followed his directions with her guard lowered, he responded in kind by attacking her while she was most vulnerable.

She was certain she had the upper hand; he had already lost two Functions(). But then she made the mistake of turning her back to him in her haste to get away and paid the price by losing Cull(). And that was enough to change the flow of the battle in his favour. By the time she managed to overload his third Function(), he had already caught up with her. She clearly remembers him overpowering her Purge() attacks with his upgraded Flood(), remembers her Transistor being on the verge of succumbing to the assault, remembers him missing once, giving her a chance – one last chance – to take him down. She  _had to_  take him down. She'd promised Blue she would get him out.

Using the Transistor's last ounce of power, she made a final attempt by sending a Purge() forward. And then...

White light. White, hot light, so bright she thought she was going to become blind.

When it finally subsided, she had to blink several times for the after-image to disappear and shake her head to stop the ringing in her ears. Taking in the view before her, she balked. It was a plain, stretching out as far as eye could see, with small trees grown sporadically. This was not the wheat field in which she had just been fighting Bracket. Bracket...

Alarmed, she looked around, half expecting to be hit by yet another Flood(), but found Royce lying on the ground, seemingly unconscious. A quick search for their Transistors proved to be futile, and she had no choice but to arm herself with the only weapon available: a sturdy tree branch. She was tempted – really, truly tempted – to attack the man right there and then.  _He_  was the main reason everything had been lost, because he couldn't resist playing with fire, for the 'greater good'. But she needed him. Needed him to get out. Red had no idea what was going on.

She tore off the sleeve of her gown, created a makeshift rope out of it and bound his hands tightly together. Then she waited for him to wake up.

To her credit, he looked as disoriented as she'd been upon discovering their sudden relocation, but he was quick to regain his usual cool composure. It wasn't long before he stood up, and without offering any explanation to her, began walking, murmuring hypotheses to himself, determined to find a way back to Fairview. And she went after him, always keeping three paces between them. She didn't trust the man, but there was no questioning his genius. He was her best bet at getting out of here. Provided he didn't try to sacrifice her like last time to that end.

Her grip on the wooden stick tightens.

"I had been following your progress," Bracket continues his monologue, complete with its unvarying tone and plenitude of pauses. "It'd been difficult at first – very difficult – to pinpoint your location, but soon you became predictable, soon, leaving a trail of data behind, visiting every OVC terminal, even your home. You could, at least, wear more comfortable shoes before locking yourself out. Zero foresight. Zero, just as I said-"

The pebble that hits him at the back of the head brings him up short, and he spins around, expression a mix of surprise and... Is that pain? She did put a lot more force into the throw than necessary, though, he wholly deserved it.

With his features schooling their usual impassivity, he turns around and resumes walking, but not before factually adding, "coupled with little tolerance."

The nerve of this man!

Maybe she should just knock him out and continue alone, but she doubts she'll get anywhere on her own. She has to return as soon as possible. Blue needs her. Is he all right? Please let him be all right.

She hugs herself with her free hand. The feeling of his warm jacket comforts her, but it is momentary. The deep sorrow that comes afterwards is too tangible to be ignored, tangled with her memories of what has happened not long ago. Everything and everyone, all vanishing in the span of a night.

Her vision becomes blurry, but she refuses to cry. Not now. Not in front of Bracket, who would probably try to get rid of her given the chance. It's not like he needs her for escaping from here... is it?

Skeptical, she regards the man striding ahead of her nonchalant, as if this is just a simple stroll in a park. Of all the citizens, it had to be him with whom she ended up stuck.  _He_  had to be the only other person left in their world alive – a member of the Camerata.

Red sighs. It has been about two hours since they started walking, but Royce is showing no sign of slowing down. Aside from the short pause during the 'pebble incident', he's managed to keep a rather even pace thus far. For an engineer who supposedly spent most of his time closeted in his studio, he certainly has a lot of stamina. She recalls how effortlessly he could lift his Transistor during their battle, as if it didn't weigh much at all. His profile data didn't mention any athletic background, so what's the secret?

Just as she is thinking of a way to articulate this, he finally stops, leaning against a tree, and she follows suit, standing opposite him, a few metres away, returning his stare. If this is a game of who is going to speak first, he's inevitably going to lose; she has no voice.

Her expression darkens.

He eventually breaks eye contact to unhurriedly scan their environment. "We are going to need food."

Red cannot argue with that. She doesn't know about him, but last she ate was a long time ago, and even the adrenaline rush is starting to fail at quelling the pangs of hunger.

"Water... Definitely water..." His calculative gaze moves upwards to the regard the darkening sky. "Maybe shelter."

And then he straightens and begins walking again toward where the trees have grown closer together and the vegetation seems to be denser. It's a gamble but it pays off when about half an hour later they find a stream and what appear to be berry bushes. She's never picked berries before and cannot tell if they are poisonous, but frankly, at this stage, she doesn't care. A quick death is more preferable than starvation. Besides, Bracket ate a few some minutes ago and he seems well enough, sitting against a tree, looking intently at an unremarkable spot on the ground, deep in thought. He's become uncharacteristically quiet, though, Red suspects it has less to do with the berries and more with a certain pebble. Or perhaps it is something else entirely. He is difficult to discern and she is not very keen in socialising with him. She is staying here out of necessity.

Truly fatigued, Red slumps next to a large rock when she's done eating. And she didn't eat much, not wanting a full stomach to hinder her ability to run if the need arises. Something doesn't feel right about this place. Aside from the plants, there has been no other sign of life. She has yet to see a single animal. Where are they exactly? This cannot be inside the Transistor; Blue described it to her. It's not like this. Is this the Country? Have both of them died? Then where is everyone else?

Bracket has been vague in his disclosure of information, but she cannot tell if he is honestly clueless or if he's withholding. He has a history of doing that. And now he's back to pinning her with his gaze. He has a habit of staring when contemplating, that she learned by reading his notes on Snapshots. Usually she doesn't let things such as this get to her – being observed by reporters and fans alike was a part of her life – but this is Royce, and he stares when he's trying to dissect something in his mind.

"You will fall asleep, eventually," he placidly states. "You will."

Not with him free to roam around.

She takes out the jacket. The last of daylight is too weak to negate the chill in the air, but Red ignores it as she tears off her other sleeve to create another makeshift rope with it. This seems to be happening frequently since last night: she destroying the mementos left of her normal life, one piece at a time.

With the branch in one hand and the rope in the other, she cautiously approaches Royce to tie him to the tree trunk. He doesn't protest, doesn't struggle. Just sits there, motionless, waiting to be bound. It's not until she's fastening the final knot that he decides to speak, so low Red almost doesn't hear him.

"Zero foresight."

She glances at his face, catching something akin to the ghost of a wry smile on his lips. She blinks and it's gone. Her eyes move back to the knots, the certainty she felt moments ago vanishing. Maybe she should just knock him out for good measure, but she decides against it from fear of accidentally giving him a concussion. She misses Blue's guiding voice. What is he doing right now? She hopes he is all right.

With a heavy heart, Red moves back to her previous spot by the rock and wears the jacket again. It's almost night right now. She can no longer see the trees in the distance, the hills rising in the horizon. The sky looks different to the one she recalls watching fondly in Cloudbank. No aesthetic splashes of colour. Just a dark, dark blue receding into pitch black, embellished with dots of star here and there, some brighter than the others. A light breeze passes over the tall grasses and through the branches of the trees. The sound of its light movement through the leaves is the only thing that stops this place from falling into total silence. Royce seems to be uninterested in talking, and Red... well, she cannot speak. She could hum, but won't. Not in his company.

Her eyelids feel heavy. She tries to stay awake, but it is a losing battle. Aside from a short nap, she hasn't slept properly ever since the night before her performance.

She dreams almost immediately after falling asleep. It's a nightmare, filled with screams, white noises and people disintegrating into nothingness. Blood pouring out from the white washed-away spaces that once used to be pavements, buildings and walls. And a voice constantly telling her 'none of this would happened if she had taken the blow'. It starts as a whisper, but grows louder and louder, degenerating into a digitalised cry clawing at her eardrums-

She jolts awakes, gasping for air, cold sweat on her forehead. She closes her eyes for a long moment, trying to steady her rapid heartbeat. Once calmer, she opens her eyes and stands up to head for the stream, but stops. The sky is still dark, but she can see well enough to notice that the spot previously occupied by a certain engineer is now vacant.

Bracket is nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have finished the game, then you should be familiar with Royce's speech pattern; the strangely-placed commas and awkward pauses in his dialogues are intentional. If you are someone who hasn't played the game, then now you know why punctuation is as it is. :)
> 
> I have the draft of the next several chapters ready, but my workload is a bit heavy at the moment, and I have another story to update, so don't assume that I have abandoned this if I don't post a chapter in a while.


	2. Chance Encounter

She waits for the sun to rise before setting out. The grass covering the ground is too tall, concealing any footprints Bracket might have left behind. Under better circumstances Red might have tried to track him down, but the odds are not in her favour. She has no idea about her current whereabouts and where she should be going, but knows that staying in one place is not going to solve the problems. She has never been one to wait.

Following the stream seems to be the most logical choice. At least there will be water to sate her thirst, and berry bushes along the way. Still, she fills her pockets with as much fruit as she can, just in case. The same, however, cannot be done for water.

Two hours of walking and yet there is no sign of life aside from the plants. Once, she thinks she hears a bird sing but that proves to be a trick of the wind. There's no longer water here nor any berry bushes. The trees are far and few between, and she starts to wonder if she's unknowingly headed back to where they first appeared, but then she sees it. Right there, in the distance. A road.

That gives her new hope and she increases her pace. Roads lead to settlements, cities,  _somewhere_. Roads mean people. And maybe some answers, perhaps a way out.

The first thing she notices upon reaching the paved path is a damaged holographic sign. There's something written on it, but the panel is malfunctioning, making the words illegible. The name of a city along the road probably, or the distance to the next settlement. With newfound resolution, Red continues down the path.

The sun is high in the sky when she reaches her destination – a city, urban, its buildings rising tall. A magnificent view, with every aspect of the scenery created to be pleasant to the eye, arranged in a masterful composition of colours and shapes. But despite all these aesthetics, the first thing that truly catches her attention is that nobody seems to be living in here. Absolutely nobody. As she walks through the streets, her initial impression that the place is deserted becomes more and more cemented in her mind. This is reminding her of Cloudbank, of the Process. From the thick layer of dust that has gathered on the surface of some of the unfamiliar vehicles, she concludes that it has been long while since the city has been abandoned. If this is the work of the Process, then why are the buildings still standing? Red hasn't seen any erased patches of white.

She tries some of the gates, but soon learns that the red circular light surrounding the doorknobs means they are locked. Her feet take her to a plaza where she discovers a building which door isn't locked. The lights automatically switch on upon her stepping into the lobby, illuminating the black and white furniture matching the décor of the reception area. Surprisingly, there is no trace of dust – the ventilation system is still functional. The terminal stationed near the right wall might contain useful information, but Red decides to postpone checking it for a few minutes in favour of searching for a washroom. Hopefully, the water tabs, too, are in working condition. Her mouth is dry.

At the far end of a hallway on the first floor she finds the restroom. To her relief, clean water pours the moment she holds her hand underneath the tab, and she drinks thirstily from it before splashing her face with the cool liquid. Her gaze falls on her reflection in the mirror, a face she hardly recognises. Dark circle under the eyes, chapped lips, skin pale from lack of nutrition and sleep alike. The bruise close to her left eyebrow, she got during her battle with the Spine.  _'I love you so much. You know that, right?'_  she can clearly hear his voice even now. The ghost of a memory from not long ago. She thinks she understands. She thinks she understands it now – his fear of being left alone, in a world so vast, stretching into infinity, where a single person's presence becomes lost in the grand scheme of things. A trace. A vanishing point. She wonders if someone out there might be listening to her voice. Her silence.

The sudden noise that echoes in the hallway outside interrupts her thought, and she turns toward the entrance, tense. Standing motionless, she waits for another indication that someone else is inside the building.

Nothing.

Cautiously, Red makes her way to the doorway, certain that it hadn't been a trick of her mind. Edging out, she catches glimpse of something hovering toward the stairs at the end of the corridor. Was it... a Haircut?

She quickly goes back inside the washroom, closing the door behind. If there is a Haircut, then there must be at least one Man nearby. How can the Process even be here? The environment is intact.

Her analysis can wait. It won't do her any good if she fails to get out of this mess. She could stay in the restroom, but that'll be the equivalent of closeting herself in a tomb. If the Process doesn't catch up with her, hunger will.

Red takes a deep breath, warily opens the door and peers outside. The hallway is empty and she doesn't hear any movement nearby. Then again, neither Men nor Haircuts are noisy creatures. The chance of accidentally running into them on the way out is high, and she can't even Jaunt() if she gets caught.

With one last glance in the direction of the stairs, she edges out and moves toward the lobby, keeping her footsteps as quiet as possible. The walk down the corridor is uneventful. It's when she reaches the junction at the end that she comes face to face with a Man. A moment of icy silence, and then the creature prepares itself to deploy a Haircut. Springing into action, Red forcefully pushes the Man aside and dashes past it – the explosion happening shortly after a telltale sign that her opponent's attack hit the wall instead of its intended target. She chances a glance over her shoulder and sees the Man jaunting after her. Oh, it's a Speedy one. Just her luck.

From the corner of her eye, she sees the Process phase past her and materialise in the middle of the lobby before launching another Haircut. She grabs the first thing her hands can get a hold of – the vase on the reception desk – and hurls it toward the hovering mass, hitting her target. It detonates upon contact, damaging the Man caught in its blast radius. She immediately begins running toward the entrance. It only takes the Process a few seconds to grow another Haircut and she's already wasted a lot of time. If she can just get out of the building, she'll be able to lose it in the alleys.

As if reading her mind, the Man jaunts to the doorway, completely blocking her escape. She stops dead in her tracks, a metre away from the creature. Should she even dare to tackle it? She doesn't really have any other choice.

The Man prepares to launch another assault, but before it can lift a limb, its head suddenly explodes.

Shocked, Red watches as the headless body takes an unsteady step backwards before slumping to the ground to reveal Bracket standing on the opposite side of the plaza, holding a firearm. He allows his hand to drop to his side before calmly approaching her. And she thought she couldn't get any more surprised today. What is  _he_  doing here? While Red is glad to be alive, she's certain Royce didn't intervene out of the goodness of his heart. How did he even manage to get a– Is that a pulse laser gun? Its design is quite unfamiliar.

The body lying by her feet twitches and she reflexively takes a couple steps back.

"They do not respawn. Which is odd," states the engineer, voice impassive despite what's just transpired. "Very odd... but- good. Considering that, we do not have a Transistor in our position, the battle would have been, otherwise, endless. Tediously endless." He stops near the corpse. "Or very quick."

He stops his observation of the decapitated body to scan their surrounding. "Many odd things in this place – whatever this place is."

So he doesn't know where they are after all. It's sometimes easy to forget he's just a human and not an omniscient being aware of every equation and possibility happening in this world.

"This is the fourth I have encountered today, so..." He lightly nudges the corpse once with the toe of his shoe. "It is safe to assume, there might be more roaming in the area. I suggest we move. Get away..."

Red wonders if he's going to return the favour of tying her hands, but he simply walks away. Not that she can do much even with her hands unbound; he's the one holding the gun.

By the time she catches up with Bracket, he's already left the plaza and is striding toward the city centre. She falls into steps beside him, but keeps her distance. With the adrenaline level in her system dropping, her fatigue becomes apparent again. She ignores it and tries to remain vigilant, ever wary of enemies that might be hiding in the shadows, cloaked. Red wishes she wasn't unarmed. The way she sees it, either their Transistors were teleported with them to here, but to a different location, or they did not come with them at all. The first means it's a race of who would get to find the weapon first, the second, being stuck in a place with the Process but with no medium to ever contaminate it.

Red directs her eyes to the weapon Bracket is holding. It looks highly advanced, but she doesn't recognise its design as those used by the authorities in Cloudbank. Granted, she was never that curious about such things.

"I found it in a store," Royce offers, still looking ahead.

Either he has a very wide peripheral vision, telepathy or a very sensitive intuition, Red dryly reasons.

He muses aloud, "I think it was meant, was meant to be a store. Terminals everywhere, asking for 'credit' in exchange for the goods purchased." A subtle frown appears on his brow. "Credit, credit... How... curious."

What does it even mean? Is it some sort of vote? Everything was complimentary in Cloudbank for as long as she can remember.

Judging by Bracket's expression, he's as puzzled as she is about this, though he chooses to remain quiet as they go through the twists and turns of the deserted alleyways. He seems to have a specific destination in mind; his strides are purposeful. Attached to a wall, Red notices a holographic board, same as the one she saw on the road, this one functional, the message shown on the display bold and visible:  _Danger. Evacuate Immediately._

She faces Royce.

"Fifth one, since I entered the city- No. Sixth. Counting the damaged one on the road, which, doesn't count really. Not  _in_  the city, so... fifth."

Such a casual comment for a warning sign. Maybe tampering with the Process for so long has numbed his sense of 'danger'. Or maybe his desire for finding the truth is so strong that he doesn't care. She didn't care, when she turned left instead of taking a right despite Blue's protest.

She ruefully regards the buildings as they pass them by, vibrant with colour instead of the blank canvas that her own world has become. She hasn't seen any white walls in the city yet, nor any further opposition since the Man at the plaza. Compared to the Process horde that was prowling through the streets of Cloudbank, their concentration here is astonishingly low. It makes her wonder if Bracket had deliberately mass-produced them in an effort to speed up Camerata's success, or triggered an unwanted proliferation. He was rather unnerved by the discovery of Youngladies. As unnerved as a man who kept Cells in a tube could be. Like wax in a lava lamp. How did he even manage to tame those? And how comes the others went rampant while some continued to remain obedient? She has so many questions to ask him. Probably should do it as soon as possible, before he decides, again, that she's more useful to him dead than breathing.

The sky is getting dark by the time they reach their destination – the store he mentioned earlier. The metal door slides open as he punches a code into a keypad that has obviously been hacked before. His doing, no doubt. When they're inside, he locks the gate again. Not to imprison her; he didn't even try to hide the passcode from her. While she isn't thrilled to keep him company, she's not going to wander outside at night when the Process is on the loose. And the store is big enough that the two of them can stay in here for days and not run into each other. She takes her time to appraise the two-story hypermarket, with rows of terminals on both levels. Something of this magnitude suggests a high density of population in the area. It is tragic that none of them still linger to use the facilities anymore.

The sound of metal scratching on the floor has her looking for the cause of the noise: Bracket, dropped to one knee next to a nearby console, taking out its lid to examine the hardware inside. There's a bottle of water next to him on the floor, which he must have retrieved from one of the terminals while she was lost in her thoughts.

Uninterested to remain in his proximity any longer, Red goes upstairs using the unpowered escalators in search of food and water. Her pockets are still filled with fruit, but she truly prefers to eat something other than berries. As she approaches one of the consoles, its blue holographic screen comes to life, showing a long list of goods available for purchase and asking her for input. Bracket did tell the truth. There are numerical values labelled as 'price' associated with every item. A compliment alone is not going to get her anything in here.

From her position on the second floor, Red can see Royce typing on the holographic interface of the machine he was dissecting minutes ago. She did see him with that bottle of water before, so he must have already discovered how to bypass the credit requirement. Although tech-savvy, she never considered herself a coding professional, and while she's not keen on talking with the last member of the Camerata, sooner of later she'll have to interact with the man in order to survive. For Blue's sake.

Absorbed as Bracket is in his work, Red doubts he would notice her even if she tries waving at him from the second floor. So she picks up what appears to the lid of a bottle and throws it towards him across the hall. It lands with a definite noise on the floor, close to where he's seated.

He stops typing.

"Really, Red..." His expression is as impassive as his voice when he looks up. Swallowing her pride, she motions for him to come up.

He shifts his attention back to the screen and resumes what he was doing.

Giving her the cold shoulder, is he. Really, she shouldn't have bothered. She did tie him to a tree yesterday. Not that she regrets it, everything considered. If it were a possibility, she would bind his hands yet again. What is he up to? Why is he letting her tag along? His sudden appearance today was rather convenient.

"Yes?"

Red looks over her shoulder at the unexpected voice, tense. Royce is standing behind her, hands in his pockets. When did he come up? She didn't hear any footfalls.

Getting over her surprise, she types in the input section of the terminal in front of her: 'How can I get anything from these consoles?' It's more dignified than directly asking him for food.

She steps away as he comes closer to see the message she's left for him.

Eyes still on the display, he replies, "I have already hacked three of the machines, on the first floor, downstairs, close to where I am working. You, of course, you would not have noticed, always keeping your distance, always. Always staying away." He looks up. "Smart decision. Smart..."

Perhaps it is time they stop dancing around the subject. She types, "What are you playing at?"

"The same game you are playing. Although," He calmly regards the deserted marketplace. "I probably shouldn't call this, a 'game'. Dangerous, degenerated- Was I too forward? Grant... he always said I was too blunt."

There's a flicker of sorrow in his otherwise stoic features, visible for just a moment. In a way, she pities them – all four of them. Blue would probably say they got what they deserved. But no. They got something worse. She wonders if Royce is the only member to survive because he was the one to feel the least. She knows he was the person who came up with the idea of using the Process to Grant. Ironic, that Bracket would call the elder man 'persuasive'.

He seems to have a habit of leading people to their death.

Her pity slowly diminishes at remembering that. "Last time I followed you around, you tried to kill me after I did all your dirty work."

"Not Kill you, not... kill you..." He languidly traces the dust-covered rim of the terminal with a finger. "Technically, to be precise, I did attempt to integrate you even before that, two nights ago, on the backstage. And failed. Failed rather spectacularly. You keep throwing all my plans – my perfectly calculated plans – into disarray. Scattering, like dust..."

Her eyebrows rise in an aspect of mock disbelief. "I thought I was predictable."

He glances at the written words left by her on the screen. "Not as much as I would like."

After all that's happened, she expected him to show at least a little more sense of responsibility. Not this. "Is everything a code to you, existing to be manipulated and reshaped by your will?"

He stops drawing patterns on the machine, contemplative. It is several heartbeats later when he finally speaks, in his usual detached tone: "Wasn't it to everyone, changing Cloudbank on a whim, one vote at a time?"

And she has nothing to say in response. He doesn't wait for one either before turning away and heading for the stairs leading to the lower level.

"I, too, think the placid snow – it looked good with the white processed background," she hears him say before descending the steps, a clear reference to her overriding Cloudbank's weather state. Using her newfound administrative powers in a city long fallen. For no one but herself. For the sake of change. And it ultimately didn't matter, not even a little.

When everything changes, nothing changes.


	3. Retreat

Flatbreads, Red found out, have the name 'pizza' here. Short and easier to pronounce, she thinks, selecting five more to be added to her shopping cart. She also found out that none of the hacked consoles offer the option of purchasing firearms. Of course. For now, she has no choice but to remain near a certain someone in case trouble erupts.

She adds a pair of trainers and some articles of clothing to the list – her own gown can no longer do. Tattered, a shell of its former self. Like her, in a way. The Transistor considered her Trace intact. Ironic really. The only thing intact in her life is her physical form, and even that is not whole anymore. Her voice is gone.

The digital clock of the terminal reads six-fifty. Bracket said they'll be heading out at seven, and to pack food for at least a week, not lingering to tell her where they will be going. The fact that he considers they might remain stranded here for maybe a week is... disheartening. Is this somewhere like the Sandbox, where time stops in the outside world when you step into it? That place used to be like a haven, a refuge for her to retreat into the relative safety and normalcy of the old. The same cannot be said about here.

After checking out, she begins walking to the main gate where her 'purchased' goods will be waiting. She finds Royce standing behind a console, intently reading the codes being displayed on its holographic screen. As she's passing by him, he tells her to pick up the datapad lying on the reception desk, because not everywhere has a terminal for her to type in her thoughts, and pebbles, while 'handy', are not a very good substitute. Red can think of a few remarks, but lets it slide; she can't talk and they are well past the age to quibble over such trivial matters.

She spots the device easily – black, small enough to be held in one hand or carried inside a pocket. The screen switches on as Red slides a finger over it to reveal a dark blue abstract background. There is already one contact added to the phone book. She doesn't have to open it to know who. The first thing she checks is the map, in hope of learning the name of the city, a little more about this place. All she receives is a blank page and the message 'cannot access the local database'.

With a sigh, she puts the datapad inside her jacket's pocket – Blue's jacket – and follows Royce as he exits the store, hovering after him a shopping cart full of salvaged hardware from several terminals, computers, along with other equipment she can't see well from her position.

The door to the building shuts behind them, its locks slowly falling into place. She doubts that would be enough to keep the Process at bay if they decide to enter. They always find a way in.

Red shifts her eyes to the ground. She read Royce's files on the Process, the ones he had attached to the Limiters. He said there were Weeds everywhere in Cloudbank, underground, waiting to sprout. She wonders if there are any here, listening to their footfalls as they wander in the deserted streets, searching. There a lot of things she wants to find, at the centre of them a man she holds very dear.

“I have to ask...”

Bracket's detached voice brings her out of the forlorn reverie. For a few seconds she lifts her gaze to him. He's still scanning the environment. For what, she doesn't know. Not the enemy; his posture is relaxed.

“I have to ask,” he repeats. “The gigantic Process you defeated at Highrise... What was – its inside – what was it like?”

The Spine.

She could reach the gate leading to the Tower's concourse by using Turn(), could skip killing the monster. She thought it would mean something in the battle against the Process, a heavy blow, one making them unable to retaliate. It was like that in the movies, in the books. But ultimately the one at Highrise proved to be one of many, and attacking it a heavy risk, a waste of time. She wonders If Grant would be alive if she had gotten there sooner. Asher probably would.

From the edge of her peripheral vision she sees Royce looking at her, and she realises it's taken her too long to respond. “It was greasy, soft. Almost organic. A long tunnel with Cells attached to its walls, and at the end, a beating heart,” Red types before handing the datapad to him, because sending a message when there is only a one-metre distance between them is nonsensical.

“Remarkable,” is the first thing he says after reading her note. “I found- when I first found out, about the design of the Cluckers' legs – and it was, really difficult to find them. They're very shy – I was surprised... Intrigued. But this- this is very fascinating. Alarming very much so, but- fascinating.” He hands the device back to her. “Well, I suppose, it was... fortunate it did not, it did not decide to appear inside my studio while I was studying the Process. It would've put me in a tight spot. Literally.”

To her, the creature seemed liked an amalgamation of other types of Process. More than once she spotted what seemed to be the main body of Youngladies inside it, woven into its walls. It made her wonder if they were being developed or devoured. The Spine showed no concern for its kin.

Red types, “It could greatly affect the Transistor, slowing it down.”

“Maybe it was trying to draw power from the Transistor, wanted to destroy it perhaps – it liked to destroy things, I noticed. Maybe it was a faulty Process, growing out of control, like a cancer. Destructive, just as one.” The pure curiosity from a minute ago is still apparent in his expression, but now it's marred with a tinge of doubt, a shade of annoyance, at facing a matter so crucial to understand and failing. Despite all that, his tone remains unchanged. “I had never encountered it before, well, its attack on Highrise so, what I have are...theories. Not reliable really, but they're all I have. Still have a lot to learn about the Transistor.”

Yet he used something that unknown to control something even more alien. She wants to tell him so, but doesn't. Not here, not now.

Silence falls, save for the echoing sound of their footsteps as they wander in the long abandoned neighbourhood. And she wonders if there are Weeds underground listening to their footfalls, beneath this immaculate walkway that might have once been the corpses of the inhabitants, disintegrated and Processed back into blocks. She wonders if she's walking over a graveyard. The city does feel like a tomb.

It is almost noon when Royce finally stops, looking a bit triumphant. Right ahead, on the other side of the square, is what seems to be a technological centre, the building rising high. Even with the lights turned off, the view is magnificent. It almost reminds Red of the Bracket Towers, complete with its excessive elevators.

She follows Royce across the street, but contrary to what she expects, he doesn't enter the technological centre. Instead, he walks toward the apartment complex nearby. The lock on the main gate, he hacks in less than a minute. The lobby reminds Red of the building she visited at the plaza, with black and white furniture matching the luxurious décor, devoid of dust. Everything seems intact, but she's learned from yesterday that doesn't equal 'safe'.

He skips the elevator, saying it offers little room to manoeuvre if they run into opposition, and uses the stairs instead. It is when they're on the third floor that he stops his ascend and begins going down the corridor, looking at the locked doors as they pass them.

“How about... this?” he asks, thinking aloud, standing before the entrance to a suite close to the emergency exit.

She can’t say anything, and even if she could, it probably wouldn’t have changed his mind. She doesn’t even know what it is that he wants in here.

When he hacks the lock, the door slides back to reveal a spacious lounge, almost triple the size of her own apartment. It is tastefully decorated in what can be called a combination of heritage and contemporary design. White is the dominant colour, complemented with shades of midnight blue, a little bit of grey. From where Red is standing near the entrance, she can see the fully equipped kitchen to the left, and two closed doors – one either side of the living room – which she assumes are the bedrooms.

The sound of running water interrupts her appraisal of the surrounding, and she turns to the source. Royce is in the kitchen, checking the water tabs of the sink. He then moves to the fridge; it’s empty, but fully functioning. Everything seems to be in working condition.

“Well-maintained, for a deserted neighbourhood,” he remarks.

Somehow hearing that aloud makes the situation eerier, if that was even possible.

Red goes to the bedroom to the left – the one closer to the kitchen – carrying the things she specifically purchased for herself back at the market. Perhaps it would be more accurate to call it stealing; she didn’t pay for anything. Not that anyone would mind. No one leaves in here.

The unexpected drilling sound that reverberates through the walls startles her, and she heads back to the living room in search of the cause, fully alert.

Bracket is standing atop the dining table, busy making holes in the ceiling and the walls. He stops to attach some unknown device, which promptly becomes online.

“Can't have Weeds growing inside like... weeds,” he says while coming down. Then he grabs one of the chairs, takes it to another corner of the room, climbs atop it and starts making another set of holes.

“Is it safe here?” she messages him.

“Relatively, for the time being.”

Red returns to the bedroom and locks the door behind her, knowing that it can’t block either Royce or the Process. Still, the gesture is comforting. She uses this brief opportunity to take a quick shower. The sensation of warm cascading water is a bliss, and when she closes her eyes, it almost feels like before, when everything was normal. She wants to stay here just a bit longer, but that is too risky, and she kills the notion as she turns off the tap. Blue’s jacket, she tenderly folds and places inside the bathroom to wash later. From the clothes she got at the market, she chooses a pair of black trousers and a knee-length olive green shirt. There must be a hair dryer somewhere in the room, but she is too tired to search for it, and instead, wraps her hair in a small towel. It can be dried after a short nap, Red thinks as she lays on the queen-sized bed, eyelids heavy.

Sleep finds her almost immediately. The dreams are far from peaceful.

The sun has gone down by the time she wakes up. For several seconds, she feels disoriented. Her stomach feels empty and she remembers she hasn’t eaten since morning.

The living room seems the same, except for the unfamiliar devices attached to the walls and ceiling. A standing lamp on the other side of the room is turned on, as is the light in the kitchen. Right, food.

Perhaps she shouldn't be surprised to find the cabinets already stocked and the fridge full, with everything sorted methodically as if the place is a laboratory. This is Royce after all. And speaking of the devil, he comes out of the bedroom on the far right side, carrying with him something very much like a large circuit board. Red ignores him, if only in appearance; she can never lower her guard. From the freezer, she takes out a flatbread – pizza, she reminds herself – and walks toward the lightwave oven, reading the instructions.

‘ _Bake for eight minutes, add tomato and topping, then grill for another four minutes.’_

Well, they don’t have any tomatoes or condiments as far as she can tell, so she just places the frozen pizza inside the oven and sets the timer for eleven minutes, for the sake of making a compromise, hoping it wouldn’t end up overcooked, or worse, burnt.

Sensing movement in the kitchen, Red checks over her shoulder to see Bracket go straight for the fridge, take out a gallon from it, then proceed to pour its content into a bottle. The liquid neither looks nor smells edible. Is that coolant? She also notices that he is now wearing a different coat. Again white and similar in appearance to his previous one, but devoid of the trademark Camerata red. She cannot imagine someone like Bracket caring about fashion, so the idea of matching their uniform colours with that of the Process must have originated from someone else. Probably Sybil.

The timer of the oven reads nine minutes, and she really doesn’t want to linger in the kitchen for that long in his presence. Might as well head to the bedroom in search of a hair dryer.

“Wait. Wait,” he calmly says as she’s passing by him.

Red faces him, arms crossed.

He returns the remainder of the coolant to the fridge, placidly closes the lid of the bottle he is holding and places it on the counter, besides the circuit board he was carrying some time ago. He intently scans it as if its secrets are laid before him, plain to be seen.

“I need your aid.”

Isn't that why she's still alive?

“I explored the nearby facility, using a proxy. The mainframe should be easy to access, very easy, nothing I can’t hack. However, the control panel is damaged – beyond repair, I’m afraid - which makes bypassing the lock rather impossible.” He looks directly at her. “Someone with a lithe frame, hypothetically, should be able to go through the ventilation shaft, and, open the door from the other side.”

This sounds almost like when he told her to approach the Cradle, and Red hasn’t quite forgotten about that particular incident. Not one bit.

She wryly lifts an eyebrow.

Bracket continues, “For setting up Limiters around the perimeter, I need more processing power. These salvaged computers won't simply do.”

She considers declining his offer. This is Royce, and he has a blatant history of betrayal. No matter how well the reasons for such acts sound to himself, his manipulations cannot be justified. This is the man behind the fall of Cloudbank - why everyone is gone.

The oven beeps a few times, and Red goes to take out the food from the appliance. Then, without giving Royce any form of response, heads to her room to eat dinner. Last time she ate a flatbread, it was back in her own apartment, while Blue was talking. It brings a tear to her eye, remembering that he’s dead-

No, not dead. She can still save him. Everything will be fine, if only she finds the Transistor.

The Transistor… That is why she needs Bracket. If she has to endure the man to fix this mess, so be it.

When Red is done eating, she grabs a black denim coat and the datapad Royce gave her that very morning before going back to the living room. He is still standing behind the counter, working on the board.

She sends him a message: “This better be about setting up Limiters.”

“It is.”

From one of the lower cabinets, he retrieves a toolbox, two flashlights, and what seems to be a wireless headset before heading for the main entrance, motioning for her to follow.

Outside, the air feels chilly, perhaps more so than the previous night. As they exit the apartment complex and cross the street toward the technological centre, Red expects to spot a Process, maybe even a Man.

The neighbourhood is desolate.

Bracket is striding to her right, seemingly not bothered by the cold temperature, and she wonders if she should question him about the thing that has been nagging her for a while.

She takes out her datapad and types, “How did you escape? Your hands were bound.”

“Did you check my pockets, while I was unconscious?” he calmly replies after reading the message. “Didn’t think so.”

She wants to mentally hit herself for that mistake. Still, she doesn’t allow the mild irritation to show on her features. “Why provoke me to tie you to the tree, then?”

“You, clearly, did not check your own pockets afterwards, either.”

Reflexively, her hand moves to her pocket, before realising that back then, she was wearing Blue’s jacket.

“Useful things, tracking devices. Very useful...”

That explains how he easily managed to locate her the next day. Why he decided that locating her is worth the trouble is a different matter altogether, one which she doesn’t prod just yet. She has a feeling he won’t tell her anyway. Won’t tell her that she’s here because he doesn’t know who is now the true master of the Transistor.

The Transistor… Oh, how much she hates that object. And how much she wants to own it again.

A powerful gust of wind passes through the square, its howling breaking the profound silence. Red lifts her eyes to regard the tall building ahead.

The technological centre seems imposing and ominous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was a while since I last updated this...
> 
> Thanks to all who commented and kudos'd the story. :)


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